Camp Beaverbrook
by UnholyHelbig
Summary: In the year 1989 four girls are sent to Camp Beaverbrook as counselors for a summer of fun. Things start to take a dark turn when odd things start to happen around the camp. Follow Beca, Aubrey, Chloe, and Emily as they navigate a summer camp seemingly out to get them. (Aka, the classic 80's horror movie that takes place in a summer camp.)
1. Chapter 1

_Dear Dad,_

 _I've already been bitten by ten mosquitos. Trust me, I have counted. The first one sunk its greedy little teeth into me before I even got into the car. Right at the base of my collarbone. It makes it look like I was sucking face with someone on the bus ride here- course, neither of you let me take the bus. Wilken's smokes too much, but that's fine. It was nice that he kept the windows down the whole way. The mountains are cooler, especially at night. I'm glad you made me pack that sweatshirt or else I'd freeze to death out here._

 _Your daughter,_

 _Beca._

She let the breath move past her lips. Beca had been holding onto it for way too long, it was starting to cloud her throat and make her lungs burn just like they had the second that man lit his first cigar. She expected a cigarette, the cab seeping with the scent of tobacco. Instead, it was the imported stuff. He looked like one of those cartoon characters with the angry faces. Beca wanted nothing more than to switch out his last cigar with a stick of dynamite, praying he wouldn't notice.

The chair that she was in creaked under her weight. It was old, and she knew that. If she applied too much pressure to the back of the chair it would break through in a dusty mess. Instead, she folded up the paper, shoving it awkwardly into the branded envelope that the camp had given her the second she signed in. Apparently, it was a requirement to actually write home. She was sure her father wouldn't mind.

Camp Beaverbrook was the last place Beca Mitchell wanted to be.

She didn't' have much a choice, however, brandishing the comically yellow t-shirt with the cartoon picture of a green beaver happily munching away at a log. On the back of her shirt in big block letters was the word Staff. She had also been given a whistle that tasted like rust and a large book of rules for what to expect as a watersports instructor. Just because she had written that she was a junior lifeguard at the community pool three years running.

Beca wished she was there now; the sun would be almost blinding, but it heated up raw skin until it was an angry red. She would be with friends, popping open sugary drinks and ice cream that would melt past fisted hands the second it was paid for.

But now, she was swatting at blood-sucking bugs, wiping it's mushed up contents on the bulk of her jeans. She hadn't unpacked yet and didn't feel the need to. The small boarding quarters for the counselors held two to three people per bunk. She was at the end of a long row of housing, and apparently one of her roommates wouldn't be returning this year due to a lice outbreak. (Which Beca thought was better left at home.)

The door creaked open behind her, loud and unruly. It seemed to brandish a layer of dust that she nearly choked on. The door was nothing more than a wooden frame with a mesh screen door that carried waves like an ocean during high tide. On the other side of this door stood her bunkmate.

She looked clumsy, that was something Beca could tell almost instantly. She didn't get a good look at her face; a duffle bag was weighing her down as she carried a photo box that rattled like no one's business. The frazzled girl dropped almost everything by the entrance, letting out a grumble of a noise before rolling her shoulders back in stifled pain.

"Um, hi." Beca managed, trying to keep her voice quiet enough not to startle the stranger. It didn't work. She gasped anyway, snapping an icy gaze Beca's way. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

She looked older than Beca and looked better in yellow than she did. She was wearing long sleeves that were rolled up to her arms and jean shorts that contradicted her need to cover up. Long curls flowed over wide shoulders. A smile brandishing her face. She sounded out of breath.

"No worries. You must be the new counselor."

"Beca, yeah." She said.

"Chloe," She pressed her fingers into her lower back, letting out a breath as she tried to work the kinks out that had formed on the track up here. "Mind if I take the top bunk?"

Beca simply nodded, running her finger over the pencil in her hand. She didn't' want that bed, she tossed too much in her sleep. It was easier to take the single bed, and the parasite-ridden girl would have taken the bottom bunk. "You've spent summers here before, then?"

"Oh totes," Chloe lifted her first bag onto the mattress. Beca tried not to wince at the word. "This is my third year."

Beca had a lot of questions, mainly along the lines of why would you subject yourself to something like this willingly? But this came out instead; "Why isn't there an 'e' at the end of the camp's name?"

It wasn't as pressing, but it was something that Beca wanted to know. A giggle pushed past Chloe's lips as she stared down at the bigger bag, then at the dresser across the room. She seemed resigned to leave it for another time. She crossed her arms over her chest and blew a strand of perfect hair from her eyes. "You must be starving, right? It was a long trip up the mountain."

"Oh, now you've won me over, Chloe."

Beca stood and lead the way to the door, it creaked loudly as she pulled it open and let Chloe go first. Halfway because she didn't really trust her weight on the set of stairs, but also out of what little kindness she had left in her heart.

The two of them walked, and Beca had to admit, there was quite a chill to the air, despite being early summer. The campers were set to arrive later that day, leaving them with mostly silence as other people struggled to move their items into the half-assed living quarters. They were the furthest away from the mess hall, a long uphill path cut through edges of wood until they made it to a large grassy clearing.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Chloe started, holding back a branch before it hit Beca square in the abdomen. "But you don't look very much like a camping girl."

"None taken, I feel like I would be more offended if you offered me a beaded friendship bracelet."

"Please, Beca. Bracelets are for the advanced." She snorted, "We start off with making coasters. Really, it's just a slab of clay."

Beca wanted to laugh, but she didn't'. She let an easy grin play at her lips. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Chloe nodded with exaggeration. She shoved her hands into the oversized pockets on her shorts. The grass was soft under their feet. There was a large log building up ahead that Beca hoped was the mess hall, her stomach close to digesting itself in a fit of instinct driven hunger. There were two smaller buildings on either side and a flagpole that housed fabric mimicking the symbol on her shirt perfectly flying high.

"Of course. You can't have a camp without a craft director, can you? Though, it's a lot easier to stick googly eyes on a rock than knitting a scarf in the middle of summer."

"You've done both of those things, haven't you?"

"I plead the fifth."

Beca took that as a bad sign. An even worse one was the lanyard that hung around her neck. It was clearly a construct of young campers trying to make something constructive out of glitter glue and uncooked macaroni. She considered it better to share her cabin with the human incarnation of a school bulletin board than an alternative. Besides, Chloe seemed nice.

"You still never answered my question."

"I don't think you ever asked one."

She held the door open to the mess hall, once again letting Chloe test out the exact weight that wouldn't send them through the creaky deck. The scent of an unidentifiable meat clouded her lungs. Hell, it was better than cigar smoke, and it was enough to send her stomach into a swirling mess. Beca was hungry, and at this point, it didn't matter what got shoveled into her mouth. As long as it was edible.

There were long picnic benches, most likely a few regular sized ones lined up to create four rows of tables that stretched from one side of the mess hall to the other. There were festive little welcome sheets in a golden yellow, and plates of store-bought cookies where the tables would break. They smelled like oatmeal raisin but looked like Chocolate chip. A long window was on the right side of the space, creating a pale-yellow light against the rest of the room, she could hear pots and pans.

"Right. Well, why is someone like you in a camp like this?"

Beca reached forward, snatching one of the cookies from the paper plate closet to them. Her stomach instantly eased the second she was able to chew real food. "I plead the fifth."


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Mom,_

 _Things look great this year at the camp. I almost didn't' recognize it when I got off the bus, but it is the same place. Gail did a lot of improvements though, including repainting the sign and actually changing out the flag. It looks yellow now, and that's good. I get my own cabin this year, so I don't have to worry about not getting much sleep. I don't know if Gail did that for her sake or mine._

 _Aubrey M. Posen._

Aubrey hated heavy sunscreen. Its scent was thick with chemicals and the white-streaked against her skin in uneven lines even though she had rubbed it close to raw. Still, it was better than the alternative of bubbling skin, angry and painful until she dipped into the lake that her cabin faced.

She had woken up and gotten dressed this morning before the sun was even up, but she still heard movement in the kitchen. Her mother had worked the night shift and would be asleep before she finished showering. That was always the case, and Aubrey didn't mind- yet, her heart seemed to ache when she climbed onto the bus and slipped a pair of headphones over her ears. She kept the Walkman steady in her grasp as Rush echoed against her chest. That way the CD didn't skip.

Aubrey was alone here, or at least, that's how she felt. The metal clipboard in her hand made sure of that.

Her fingers stuck to the paper from the sunscreen and smudged the words. Bunk assignments and a long list were scribbled in between blue lines. The letter she mentally reminded herself to mail when she walked towards the mess hall.

Instead, her sneakers crunched against the gravel that wracked the sides of the lake; long and stretching. The afternoon air rippled against the reflective surface as water danced dangerously close to the canoe's flipped against their sides. They were old and needed to be replaced but she bit her tongue until she tasted metal.

Camp Beaverbrook had changed with each summer. When she was twelve, it was a wonderland away from her family. She had brought home the crumpled-up pamphlet that they handed out at school and somehow convinced her parents to let her leave for the summer. It'll be good for the girl. Her father had said Maybe she'll learn the importance of consequences.

She hadn't. Instead camp was a place to have sex with Andrew Watts behind cabin number nine when she turned sixteen. She had gotten poison ivy places where it shouldn't have been that summer and came home to her father sleeping on the couch.

"This is an important job, Aubrey. I need bullet focus."

She bit back a scoff as they walked. Bullet focus was the only thing that Aubrey Posen possessed. That's why she went home with a blue ribbon for the science fair four years in a row. Why she had been considered for a full ride for Harvard in the Fall, and an RA position at Stanford's summer program. She had turned it down for the chance at a last summer at Camp Beaverbrook.

Gail didn't have the energy to run a camp like she used to. Still looking quite young, she was tired. Her slumped shoulders and ill-intentioned words were the clear-cutting points for Aubrey, the two of them keeping a brisk pace as they rounded the corner of the lake. It smelled rancid.

"My role here will be vastly shrinking, understand?"

"Of course," Aubrey said. And she meant it.

"Not that I don't enjoy spending time with the campers in the summer. Trust me, I do. I just have a lot more to handle. The legal faucets of keeping this place up and running. That's why I'm entrusting you."

Her words made Aubrey's stomach bubble in unbridled anxiety. The whole camp under her instruction? Gail Abernathy had made it clear that she would come down from her big house a mile west if things got bad if any type of problem occurred. But Aubrey made a silent deal with herself that nothing _would_ go awry.

Aubrey brought her hand back up to the side of her throat, her fingers stung, a tiny insect squishing against her pale skin. Its bloody guts mixed with a sheen of sunscreen. She rubbed the raw spot until little balls of dirt appeared. She remembered how much she hated the mosquitos. Little vampires that never got their fill.

"The campers arrive later today, and all of your counselors are here."

"Mine?"

"Yours."

They had stopped at the edge of the property; a long edge of pine trees filled every aspect of her senses. It made her itchy, or maybe that was the new pink welts that formed against her skin. Gail didn't seem to mind, instead, she grasped the clipboard. "This," She flicked the corner of it, creating a hollow noise "Is your lifeline. Consult this before you consult me. Are we clear?"

"Crystal."

She got a pat on the back. Her father used to resort to those all the time. It was a fine line between actual affection and a condescending way to get her not to screw up. She got one after her first dance recital, when he left the house for the last time after the divorce, and when she graduated a month ago.

Gail added in an extra squeeze of the shoulder for comfort, though it didn't' help much.

Aubrey watched as the older woman walked away. She looked dark compared to the golden shirts that hugged everyone's sides like a warm blanket. Aubrey scratched at her neck, cursing herself for not pulling on a bracelet or spraying on citronella. She listened as the waves lapped at the shore and stared down at the clipboard.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_." It was a low growl as she turned in the gravel, struggling to get herself up the side of the hill leading to the lake. She had to get to the mess hall, not only was she late, but she was also in charge of a bunch of teenagers- which meant most of the welcome cookies would be scarfed down by now.

A rough pain worked its way through her shoulder as she collided with another. A warm body that smelled like citrus and was soft to the touch. She had grasped at elbows blindly and stabilized the two of them, making sure her clipboard was still pinned under her arm. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

The counselor under her touch was wearing a smile despite almost being bulldozed by an angered blonde. Mousy brown hair fell into perfect slate eyes, ones that could have been green if the day was clearer. She wore a camp tank-top, that obnoxious beaver chomping on wood against the front.

"No worries," her voice was smooth. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I-"She breathed out evenly, pulling herself away as she ran her fingers through blonde hair. "Sorry, I was rushing."

"Mess hall, right? I'm headed there too, I may have overslept. My roommate didn't' wake me up and… and I'm rambling, aren't I? I'm Stacie."

"Aubrey," She smiled.

She had seen that name on the registry. A camp counselor who had an expertise in archery, two championships, and a summer to teach a bunch of snot-nosed kids what she knew about the sport. Stacie Conrad looked like she was built enough to go to the Olympics.

But instead, she was at Camp Beaverbrook.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi Mom!_

 _They have us writing letters home now. You remember how last year was optional? (Even though I still wrote you every day). This time we have this special stationery with a whole bunch of little beavers on it. I think it's cute, but Hayley thinks it's lame. I don't blame her, she goes_ to camp _to get away from home. It's my last year as a camper, so expect some action-packed letters. Say hello to grams for me. Let her know that I love her._

 _Emily_

Her mother had always told her to never read on the bus, or in a car, for that matter. It was meant to make the words blur with each bump even if she rested her knees on the back of the seat in front of her to try and steady everything. She could get back to her murder mystery that way. The truly unlikable character in Oliva Foxworth had consumed her enough to where she didn't' watch the rolling pine trees.

It was more than the gruesome story that left a queasiness to her stomach. Maybe she _should_ have listened to her mother when she told her not to read while in a moving vehicle. But she had no other way to preoccupy herself during the long ride. Hayley had fallen asleep within seconds, practically boarding the bus in her pajama's. She had no interest in catching up, not when they had the whole summer ahead of them.

"How far are you?"

"Huh?"

Emily glanced up, her eyes searching around the bus for the source of the voice. She found it in a slight girl with blonde hair and the greenest eyes that she had ever seen. Her smile was kind and she had a book on her own lap, waving it slightly, lilting as she eared the page. She was across the aisle, her own seatmate staring out the window at the passing scenery. Another McDonalds and a hotel with tribal symbols chipping away.

"Oh, they just snuck into the estate." She reached forward, sticking the letter that she would have to re-pen on this supposed stationary later, into the crease of the novel. Saving it for later. "You've read it?"

She hummed, nodding as she turned herself into the seat, her lanky legs relaxing in the aisle like everyone else on the bus. Emily had to admit, it made her own stance itch. But she stayed put. "Yeah, I saw the movie first though. My mom took me to the cinema and it wasn't too bad. But the book was better."

"The books are always better," Emily smiled, setting the novel onto the empty space between her and Hayley. The girl groaned as the bus hit a bump. She was half-asleep, pulling into herself as she adjusted her position close to the window. "This your first time at camp?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"No, no not at all." Emily said, "I've just never seen you around before."

"Yeah, well. My parents figured I'd need to get out for some air and life experience for once. I convinced them to send me to camp instead of my aunt's place in Washington."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"She has cats," The stranger deadpanned, shaking her head slightly. "Twelve of them."

Emily couldn't help the small giggle that moved past her lips-sure, one or two pets were cute but when it came to that many it made her stomach churn even more. She remembered having a great grandma that only had three and that was a nightmare. She used to babysit Emily when she was younger, and it often resorted to picking cat hair out of desserts that contained way too much Jell-O.

"Anyway, I'm Jane." She gave her a toothy grin as she produced a handshake.

"Emily, it's nice to meet you."

The two of them chatted for the last thirty minutes of the bus ride, almost long enough for Emily to forget about the uneasy feeling in her stomach. It dulled each time she swallowed and was nearly forgotten by the time the big yellowed bus pulled into the rounded lot in front of the camp. It kicked up dirt so strong they could almost taste the grit in the air.

Hayley had finally stirred enough to pull her bags down from the baskets overhead (with the help Emily, of course) as she blinked crudely at the sun the second, they stepped off the bus. Jane looked astonished, eyes scanning every inch of the large camp.

"Don't' worry," Emily gave her a small nudge with her shoulder "It's not as intimidating as it looks."

There was a clatter behind them, some kid falling off the bus into a cloud of gravel. A few people rushed to pull him to his feet and straighten his glasses. Jane glanced back for a second, breathing in before glancing back at the largest building. "Well, that looks promising."

"Come on," Emily bit back a laugh as the three of them walked towards the mess hall. She knew it well, could practically smell the welcome cookies as the sugar wafted through the door.

They were the second bus of kids to arrive, each of them took a seat next to one another, Hayley shoving a cookie into her mouth before they even settled themselves. There was a buzz of activity and the acute scent of sunscreen mixed with whatever they were cooking up for dinner. It didn't exactly ease the tension in her abdomen. She felt Jane's nerves more, squeezing her shoulder slightly with a kind smile.

The noise, however, completely cut out the second the door opened. Or maybe it was just dampened in her own mind. She watched; a lanky counselor holding a clipboard, the woman looked official- her skin was sun-kissed and her eyes were kind. Her simple presence was enough to thaw the rest of Emily's anxieties. An undeniable smile pulling at her lips. Hayley let out a low whistle.

"Woof, Emily." She nudged her side, "Looks like your hottie from cabin number nine got a promotion."

"Shut up and drop it." She growled, body betraying her as an undeniable blush crept up her neck and burned at her ears.

" _Puh-lease_ Emily your one-sided pining is the only interesting thing that happens at this camp. I am not going to spend a whole summer sitting here watching you drool over a woman with a whistle and a God complex." Hayley took another bite of her cooking, crumbs spilling down her shirt.

Jane let out a soft scoff and shook her head as she focused back on the woman who now took her spot at the front of the room. All she had to do was blow the whistle around her neck, gaining more attention (if that was even possible) from Emily and the rest of the campers. Most conversation eventually tampered.

"Wow, Em I wonder if that's the only thing her tongue can do," Hayley whispered.

Emily shot her elbow back, jamming it into the woman's ribs as she choked on whatever was left of the cookie in her mouth. Hayley squawked, Aubrey's eyes flashing towards the two of them with little wonder, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she geared up to give the beginning of the year speech.

Emily could swear she saw a wink.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey Dad,_

 _It seems kind of early to write like this, doesn't it? But there isn't too much to do yet. Everyone is just settling in. I'm in the same cabin as last year, but Lizzy isn't here (She got lice or something?) but there is another girl. Beca. I don't' really know what her deal is, but I want to learn more about her. She looks like a tough nut to crack, you know the type. You work with people all day. But I think it's worth it. She seems nice past all those rough layers. I just know it._

 _Love you Lots,_

 _Chloe._

There was a cruel imbalance between the heat that the fire produced and the cold of a mountain night. It seemed to suck all the moisture from the air, flames licking against a black sky as it cruelly shaded the features of the counselors and campers alike. It didn't' cure the frozen fingers and running noses. Chloe having pulled the blanket that Beca offered over her shoulders as well.

It was an act of pure kindness that she didn't' take lightly, the two of them had their backs pushed against one of the logs, the bark digging into their spines. A flannel throw draped over the two of them. Beca smelled less like sunscreen and more like the fire that burned in front of them. She had let out a grunt as Chloe leaned into her side.

"Has anyone ever told you that you lack boundaries?"

"Every day, Beca."

Chloe remembered her first campfire, the way the head counselor spun tales in a low and gurgling voice. She couldn't' remember his face or even his name, but she knew his purpose. To terrify and excite the new campers with stories untold. She had never heard something like this, but now it was a melodic tune to her ears.

When she was younger Chloe checked out a book about ghost stories with her friend Danny Spritzes library card, so her mother wouldn't know. She would read it by the glow of a flashlight and work herself up under the covers until she would have to sleep on her parents' floor. Her dad would trip over her and let out a string of curse words before he lifted her up and let her spend the rest of the morning on his side of the bed while he got ready for work. It was always clouded in that warmth.

Her mother eventually found the book and called Danny's. Neither of them was allowed to go to the library for a long while- though, it wasn't too upsetting in the moment. Chloe had books to read at home, and Danny didn't' care either way. But she spent a month being tucked in as tight as possible in attempts to keep her in one place. She would always end up back on that floor wrapped in a blanket.

Chloe's eyes scanned the circle. There were counselors from other cabins that would linger as embers refused to burn out. They would light a few smokes and share in laughs until one of them fell asleep in a warm haze of alcohol and tobacco. She stopped doing that after her second year, too tired, and too unnerved by the cold.

"Alright everyone, listen up" Aubrey stood, she would usually tap the amber bottle in her hand with something to catch the attention of everyone, but the circle was small, and her voice carried strong. Chloe could have sworn she saw Beca roll her eyes as she shifted against the blanket. "I have a few things I want to say."

There were a couple of hoots from the other counselors, just urging the woman on. Chloe was halfway through her second beer, she felt fuzzy, but in the best way possible. If she hadn't bitten her tongue, she would be the best wing woman for the speech that was sure to be delivered.

"I'm not going to give some long-winded shitty speech, alright?" _Or maybe not._ "What I am going to say, is, I want no more than three accident reports this summer yeah? So, keep your campers under control please."

There was a rumble of giggles from most of the people around her. Chloe cast her gaze over to Beca, the girl did have a ghost of pain flash across her eyes. Maybe it was the deep light of the fire that shaded her features in a way unimaginable as it ate away at the logs.

"I guess with that out of the way," She mumbled, dragging her bottle up to her lips as she took a frothy gulp, clearly enjoying the coolness that the alcohol provided. "You _all_ know what time it is. Who thinks they can give it justice?"

"What?" Beca whispered soft enough for only Chloe to hear. It elicited a giggle from the girl as she squeezed Beca 's knee softly, under the blanket.

"Shh, you'll see."

The brunette seemed to visually shiver at the close contact of breath against skin. Chloe felt a bloom of satisfaction deep in her abdomen. It was… interesting, to see Beca squirm like that. In the twelve hours that she had known her, it was very apparent that she was rough around the edges, breed to be, at that. But Chloe knew she could break through it if she tried hard enough.

The logs seemed to shift under the torrid heat as ash still burning rose against the black sky. The counselors seemed to settle as Aubrey brought the palm of her hand closer to the earth. Beca looked like she thought this place was home to a cult. The camp nurse, Jessica, hugged her cabin mate closer on the edge of the log that they rested upon. Cynthia Rose toyed unnervingly at the frayed edge of her own blanket.

The archery instructor, Stacie, cast a sullen glance at Aubrey. A longing one that made Chloe ponder. They would be cute together, she certainly had the build and the concentration. Or at least, Chloe hoped she did if she would be handling arrows. Maybe she would see about that later (in a nonabrasive way, of course.)

"Uh, I can start." A male voice countered the silence. Jesse Swanson, resident movie geek, and even better cook. His first couple of years at camp resulted in a cheesy movie thrown together with static-filled music and memories that had only happened a month before. But he had found himself loving the kitchen. He sure could tell a story though, and with the slight nod of Aubrey, he continued.

"You guys know all those legends about teenagers who find themselves trapped by a murderer with a hook for a hand?" It was a rhetorical question, his chocolate eyes trained on his full bottle of beer, not at all touched. "Two lovers park a car along the side of the road after a long date, when they hear the radio crackle. It's a special announcement."

"you have got to be kidding me?" Beca whispered under her breath, earning a sharp elbow to the side. Chloe was completely engrossed, even though she had heard this same story year after year. Sometimes the couple would change, and the years would differ, but it was always the same story. "Ow! Fine. Watch it, Beale."

"A murderer has escaped from the asylum at the top of the mountain. He's extremely dangerous, out to get revenge on the bully that tormented him at camp when he was younger. Drowning him. Trying to strangle him, and worst of all, nearly blowing him to bits in the middle of the lake shed."

Chloe leaned forward, almost out of necessity for some type of warmth that the dying fire provided. Everyone was too engrossed to stroke it, it would eventually go out, leaving them in the cold and desolate part of the forest that looked nothing but harmless during the day.

"The girl wanted to go home, but the boy? Oh, the boy had spent most of his summers up at Camp Beaverbrook. He knew the land more than anyone else and thought he would be yielded a hero if he headed back to the grounds. After all, they were just around the corner."

Aubrey nodded and took another swallow of her beer before she continued the story herself, her voice hushed and gravelly. "He drove them into camp. It was empty this time of year. The mattresses were flipped, and the canoes were locked up in the very shed that had been rebuilt just fifty years earlier. Everything about the place was quiet. He left his headlights on, and the girl in the car, surges of adrenaline flashing through him as he searched every cabin, only to find them empty."

"He heard a scream then." Stacie piped up by the girl's side, she was holding a solo cup that contained a mix of alcohol as she stared into the fire, Aubrey giving her a thankful smile. "It was the girl. You see, he had left her like a sitting duck in the middle of an empty camp. And by the time he returned, she was dead. A single slit against her throat, the radio was still blasting the same report. A murderer was on the loose. Steer clear of the mountains. Steer clear of Camp Beaverbrook."

"The boy got back in his car and drove to the nearest ranger station. All the while his dead date was in the passenger seat. He hadn't the heart to leave her." Aubrey started again, glancing down at her drink before scrunching up her nose as she had suddenly lost the stomach for it. "Three more people died that summer, and they never caught the escaped convict. They say to this day, he roams the forests around Camp Beaverbrook. Waiting to avenge the torment that he went through with a fresh set of kills every fifty years."

There was a beat of silence then, breath pushing past the air and out in puffs. Chloe had been biting the inside of her mouth long enough to insight the taste of blood, and Beca? Well, Beca had shaken her head and downed the rest of her own beverage.

"Spooky," Jessica broke the silence as she shivered from either the cold or the articulated story that some of the counselors had relayed. "You know, isn't this the fiftieth year?"

"No way," Chloe spoke up, "The fiftieth year was last summer. You all made a big deal about it."

"No, it's this year." Aubrey stood, tossing her bottle into the metal can set up by the circle. The glass made a hollow sound against echoed metal. Beca flinched. "You're just shit at math, Chloe."

She let out a thick sigh, leaning further back into the log as she rested her arm on her folded knee, she had peeled most of the label off her bottle, the blanket falling from her shoulder, but she welcomed the cold. Yeah. She _was_ shit at math.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear Dad,_

 _I think I could get a little used to writing these letters. I'm not sure if you're actually reading them, but if you are, this place isn't so awful. Certainly, better than the alternative. Wilken's hasn't made the trip up here. Canceled the first time due to an emergency but I know I can't push it off for long. I know that you like him, or whatever. You say he's a good man, but something is off-putting about him. Maybe it's the authority._

 _Your Daughter,_

 _Beca._

The mess hall didn't smell as appetizing on an empty stomach; the undeniable scent of burnt grease was layered against Beca's lungs and made her crave something a little stronger. It had a tinged sweetness to it, or maybe that was the syrup that Aubrey Posen was slathering against a stack of waffles. It dripped and ran into a crumbly mess on the edges of the plate. Her stomach churned.

Chloe's lavender scent was strong and almost eased the concoction. She hadn't slept very well, the mattress lumpy and the ill attempt by the camp to keep mosquitos out had been futile. Her legs were a scabbed mess, and new pink lumps were against her collarbone. She scratched at them absently, reaching for a piece of toast that was in the middle of the table. Maybe that would settle her stomach.

"You didn't get in until late last night," Jessica stated, shoving a mouthful of pancake past her lips as she chewed slowly, trying not to choke on the batter. Her deep grey eyes were staring towards Stacie, the girl reaching for her glass of orange juice.

"Eh," She shrugged her shoulders, "I met the new counselor from cabin seven. We have a lot in common."

Aubrey shook her head with a dull smile on her lips, seemingly having lost interest in her pancakes. She drew little patterns in her plate with the sharp edge of her fork. Chloe picked her own stare up from her food.

"You nervous about today, Bree?" She asked.

An odd look crossed her features. Aubrey Posen was tightly wound, and even though Beca had just met her she knew that from the start. The way she sat with her back straight and kept her elbows off the table while she ate gave way to little fun. Last night at the campfire was one of the only times she saw a bit of herself in the girl. The one who would drown out anxieties with alcohol instead of perfectionism.

Beca bit the edge away from her toast. It was dry, but she didn't want to reach across Chloe to grab the pad of butter. A strange heat seemed to engulf her each time their skin made contact. She blamed the warmth of the fire last night and the fleece blanket that was draped around them. But it happened again this morning as they brushed their teeth together. So domestic, Beca thought.

"Nervous? No. Not really." Aubrey said "I practically ran the camp last year by myself anyway. This time Gail isn't breathing down my neck, though. It should be good."

"No more projectile accidents, right?" A counselor Beca didn't recognize spoke up. He had created a sandwich out of the pancakes and bacon, unabashedly shoving it into his mouth as crumbs dripped down his dark green shirt. The table shook and he recoiled. "Ow! Jesus Christ, Bree. She kicked me!"

Chloe shrugged, "You deserved it."

Beca chewed slowly and didn't ask questions. The wild look in the head counselors' eyes gave her enough pause. She wasn't here to make friends, she was here to keep to herself. Though, part of her knew Chloe Beale wouldn't let her spend the summer coaching kids on how to properly use a jet ski without having some fun herself.

Her eyes moved to the small clock that hung above the doorway. They had been situated in the corner of the mess hall, sheltered from the noise of the campers tiredly eating their own breakfast. She could see the neon light from the kitchen seeping behind the side of the bench. It was nearly eight. Her stomach churned.

"Beca?"

"Huh?" someone had been talking to her. Aubrey had been talking to her. She knit her eyebrows together, looking at the rest of the people staring at her from the table. "What'd I miss?"

"I _said_ the two of us need to talk. I have a binder on water safety that we need to go through. It's very important. Probably the most important part of this camp. We can't have any accidents."

"Yeah, I think I'm good." She sounded out easily. "Just make sure kids don't drown, right?"

"It's more than that."

She had struck a nerve, Aubrey had turned a different shade of red than she had seen before and it almost made her feel triumphant. Like she was picking at the strings of a violin that was wound all too tightly. It gave her a familiar rush. A defiant one.

Beca pushed her chair back, standing from her seat. "I'm not the one handling arrows, no offense."

Stacie didn't' look up from her food. "None taken."

Aubrey had grown three more shades of red before Beca gave her a slight salute and turned her back, walking out into the cool morning light. She wasn't used to the atmosphere of the mountain, but she felt hot. Hot from the interaction that had just occurred. There was dew on the grass that soaked into her pant legs and made them cling to her skin. She pulled her long sleeve shirt closer- the red lifeguard design was painted on with a weird substance, the whistle around her neck jingling with each step she took.

Beca took her time as she walked up to the cabin that overlooked the rest of the camp. It was more of a house than anything, large and looming. It had a green roof and looked like one of those places she would construct out of Lincoln logs when she was younger. Gail had hoarded herself away there like a mad scientist, and Beca never knew if she was supposed to knock or not.

Wilken's had his black El Dorado parked out front. He had a New York license plate and his engine clicked in groaned from the mountain air. He hadn't been here long, but Beca knew Gail had already offered him a cup of tea that he would decline. He wasn't much of a tea drinker.

She knocked anyway and was greeted a few seconds later by the owner of the camp. She looked somber, a flannel and a large pair of thick-rimmed glasses. A mug was in her grasp and it radiated steam, edging at the lenses. Gail offered a kind smile, but it seemed forced.

"You're early,"

"I thought the walk would be longer."

Gail nodded and stepped inside. She expected to be led someone more formal, an office with a large oak desk and bookshelves lining the wall. Instead, she was sat in the middle of a sofa that faced two other chairs. A fire crackled to her right and made sweat form against her brow. It was sure to warm up soon, having burned all night. Wilkens eyed a full cup of tea that he was too polite to decline.

He was a dark man, black and grey hair that always accompanied the black suit that he wore. Today he evaded the tie, almost like it was more casual. But she had seen him in a court setting. His only two moods were formal and somber. Today seemed to be the ladder.

"Hello, Rebecca." He lifted his chin "How have you been?"

"Okay, I think. Everyone is very welcoming."

She had only been there for three days, and he dropped her off himself. Granted, they hadn't made much conversation. He wasn't one to ponder the weather or ask about the tides. instead, they rode quietly with the windows down until it got too cold.

"Good, I'm glad." He shifted in his seat, the leather squeaking under his weight. "Have you spoken to your father?"

"I write him letters. Have you?"

"No, afraid not."

Beca nodded. Gail had been watching this interaction carefully. Neither her nor Beca found a reason for these visits and they had barely begun. He would ask the same questions. _How have you been? Have you spoken to your father? Have you caused any trouble?_ To which he would turn to Gail before asking _Has she caused any trouble?_

Wilken's got her to sign paperwork that Beca didn't care enough to read before thanking her and shaking the woman's hand. He would nod at Beca too, a little form of affection before leaving completely. He drove away before anyone could ask questions an left the two girls in an unbridled silence.

"Want a muffin?" Gail asked, not drawing her eyes away from the fire. "Maybe some tea?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear Mom,_

 _Do you remember Cathy Halliwell? I do. She was the girl that I used to play with in first grade. The one who lived a few houses down- she was always so… defiant? It was like whatever she said or did pissed me off (excuse my language) and she knew it. She wanted to get me angry. She wanted to get a rise out of me to see what I would do if she pushed me too hard. My watersports director is Cathy Halliwell. Okay, well, not literally but she's close enough._

 _Aubrey M. Posen._

The sun reflected off the water, its ripples cutting across a normally calm surface. Everything looked almost silver- a metallic edge to a simple body of water. Aubrey tried not to stare into the sun often, her eyes squinted and a strange heat collecting under her stare. She watched like a gargoyle crouched on a stone roof.

Instead of glowing ruby eyes, there was a cup of coffee in her hands and a push of breath past her lips. It was bitter and burnt. She never trusted Jesse when it came to the beverage. He scarcely drank it. When he did he was wired for days with a stomach ache but he had no quarrels when it came to throwing on a pot of water.

She flinched at the taste and lowered it.

Beca Mitchell was keeping a watchful eye on the kids in the water. A whistle was slung around her neck and she even moved it up to her lips to shout a few times. The campers minded her but that didn't stop the seething edge that wormed under her skin. There was something off about Beca.

She had scampered away from breakfast yesterday morning like it was nothing, shoving a piece of bacon into her mouth before vanishing into a cloud of fog from the higher levels of the mountain. Her words were sharp, and her movements were strong but behind those sullen eyes was a damped soul with the need for something more. Something she wasn't telling Chloe.

"You'll set her on fire if you keep staring like that, you know?"

Aubrey let her stare linger for a few more seconds. Then she cast her eyes over to the voice, over to the tender gaze that met hers. It was warm and blissful, yet naive at the same time. Aubrey recognized the girl from last year, though she had grown into her height, had grown into a lot of things.

Emily stood tall, a towel held against a mess of wet hair. She had dried it enough to give it a messy shine in the sun. A bikini held her curves and sun-kissed skin. She had pulled herself from the water and Aubrey was too distracted to have noticed the shift of the rocks and the sound of water dripping. Emily was distracting at best, and that goofy grin on her face was nothing short of endearing.

"Not that… I snuck into the movie Carrie when I was way too young to see it. Not the best idea, because the only thing I could think of was how she set that whole gym on fire because she was angry."

"What makes you think I'm angry?"

"Oh," Emily quieted "I'm not sure, I guess. That crinkle in your nose is a bit of a dead giveaway."

Aubrey forced a breathy mess past her lips and shoved her hands into her jean short pockets, the whistle she was running her tongue over a second ago dropped. It was cold against her chest, but her eyes barely flicked over to it. Instead, she studied the camper. "I don't have a crinkle."

"You do," Emily narrowed her stare and ran her own finger over the bridge of her nose "It kind of forms right here. And it seems to only happen when coach Mitchell is around. See! There it is again!"

The head counselor couldn't wipe the dorky grin off her face as Emily beamed back, trying to work her fingers through the wet mane of hair that was framing her face. "Coach- you, I mean, you actually call her _coach?"_

Aubrey couldn't help the disdain that leaked into her voice, it was one of those things that her therapist talked to her about: _don't be quick to judge Aubrey, dear. Not everything can be up to par._ Her parents had forced her into those sessions in the first place in an attempt to loosen the strings they tightened. Aubrey would nod along and act like she was taking the advice to heart, but she never would. Not the way she was supposed to.

Camp had made it easier on her. She would allow herself to crack open a beer on the edge of a log, denting something that nature had created. The bubbles would wash over her grasp and she would down the other half without a thought.

"Well, what do you suggest we call her?"

Aubrey could swear that she saw Emily lean in. The towel was now strung over her shoulder and the primal scent of lake water sprinkled her skin. It was musty and mixed so evenly with the cheap sunscreen that kept Emily's cheeks from reddening.

"Scum."

"Relax," Emily barked out a laugh. Aubrey was about to shoot her a narrowed glare but there was a gentle and subtle touch that squeezed at her shoulder. Emily's fingers were warm, and a tingle ran against her arm. It instantly made the tension in her shoulder melt. The brunette almost drew back, testing the water, it seemed. "I know Beca isn't your favorite person, but she actually minds us pretty well."

"That is an understatement." She sighed.

Aubrey wasn't exactly sure why she was telling all of this to Emily; Emily who had the kind eyes, the sun hitting them in just the right way to invoke a golden honey. She had a cautious smile and the blonde had recalled the years the two of them spent with sparring glances.

She would stare across the fire. Her breath pushed into the midnight air and she nursed the drink in her hands. Emily would glance over the flames a taunting smile on her face that could easily be excused as innocent. But Aubrey felt a heat that never had anything to do with the campfire. However, she pushed it down. She was the head counselor now, and Emily? Emily was still just a camper.

"I don't trust her." Aubrey finally allowed herself. "She's snuck away more than once."

"Social recluse, maybe?"

"Maybe. Or a raging bitch."

"Mm," Emily paced herself, casting out a glance to the woman who lifted an eyebrow her way. "You know, I uh, I used to think that about you?"

Aubrey was back to sputtering; her fingers found the little pieces of lint in her pockets. She had rolled them up into little tight balls like she used to do with gum wrappers or the ridged edges of notebook paper in class. It was a nervous habit, but it beat giving into the nausea. "What?"

"You used to scare me, a lot." She said, continuing to stare at the lake that had grown darker with the engrossed season. "But then I got to know you a little bit better and… maybe give her a chance is all? I'm not saying shove your tongue down her throat because that's-"

Aubrey lifted an eyebrow.

"That is not what I meant, you shouldn't come onto her or anything, I mean… that's not what I want to do to you. Not that I wouldn't _enjoy_ that because I would it's just-"She let out a long sigh, placing her face in the palm of her hand.

"Emily?"

"Yeah?"

"Go cool off."

"I'm gonna-"Her voice was shaky "yeah"

Aubrey watched as the girl let her towel drop to the rocky shore, a puddle of fabric that she wished she could keep her gaze on. Emily flicked her gaze down before taking a few more steps to the water and completely submerging herself. Aubrey tried not to stare, she really did.

But she was utterly helpless.


	7. Chapter 7

_Hey Mom!_

 _It's been what? A week since I've last written. I'm not really sure if they're sending these letters on Fridays or if they actually spend that much money on postage. Part of me thinks that they don't send them at all and they're just sitting in those big plastic cases that Gail always keeps under lock and key. It's been fun, though, but I'm ready to be a counselor now. I think this is the perfect send off._

 _Emily_

She mindlessly pushed the three lone carrots against the broth backdrop. They looked sad, all of their coating having tinted the liquid that they swam in. They looked like little life rafts that could carry a whole person if a person was an ant.

She had her lip between her teeth, her stare trained in the general direction of the counselors. On one counselor that had the sunlight hitting her just right as it rose against the mess hall. Emily had a full conversation with her yesterday, one where she only choked on her words once or twice. She knew Aubrey, had seen her every single day at camp for the past three and a half years but still- each time was met with her heart in her throat and an instant moisture to her palms.

The blonde did a bit of a double take, first catching a gray gaze before shooting back down to her own food and up again. She offered up a kind smile and a half-hearted wave. Emily fumbled with herself, cheeks inflamed as she lifted her chin in a nod and looked back toward the grooves of the table that had gotten so interesting. An onion clung to the back of her spoon.

"You are helpless." Hayley tore a generous piece from a roll, dipping it into the broth. "Just jump her bones already."

"What?" Emily hissed, voice low "I don't want to- I mean, she's flawless but that doesn't mean I need to have sex with her. Honestly just being in her presence-"She trailed off, gulping in a heap of air "Where's Jane?"

"Nice change of subject Michel Emerson."

Emily let out a deep grumble at the reference. Hayley was playing to her weakness; a shitty movie about vampires that hung from the bottom of train tracks. Michel Emerson had risked everything for a pretty girl with an alluring personality, even if it did turn him into a creature of the night. "Seriously, asshole, she hasn't shown for lunch, and now dinner?"

"So? Jane never shows. She probably passed out after her time slot on the lake. Yeah?" Hayley rolled her eyes.

She had spent more than enough time talking Emily down. She had kept the clumsy girl from nearly drowning in the lake when Aubrey told her to simply cool off. It was getting late, there was sleep eating away at the edge of her mind and it showed in her demeanor. Not particularly sunny, but often times confused with discontent.

"Sure." Emily agreed, not having anything else to do. She had lost all appetite for any type of dinner. There was a sneaking pinprick at the back of her mind. Something that she had gotten before. Her mother used to say the uneasiness was a clear sign that she needed to listen to her gut. But that was only before she put her on a plane for a class trip to New York with enough money to buy mace as soon as they touched down.

Now it was rocking her whole entire sense of being.

Emily let her spoon fall into the soup that was mainly untouched. It created a loud noise and beef broth soaked against her cheek. Hayley flinched, lifting her eyebrows. "You're going to offend the chef."

Coffee eyes shot towards the kitchen, Jesse was bringing the knife down on what looked like more onions. It certainly smelled that way. He had bulky headphones over his ears and a towel against his shoulder, head bobbing along. Somehow, she knew he would be okay.

She rolled her eyes and swung her legs over the bench. "Wha- where are you going?"

"I am going to go check her cabin," Emily said, throwing her napkin down against the bowl of soup before gathering it all together. She didn't wait for Hayley to open her mouth in protest, instead, she walked towards the very window that supplied the neon light of the kitchen.

Jesse glanced up, lifting his chin slightly before she gave him a wary smile and dropped the bowl before anyone else had, careful not to spill the broth. He went back to bobbing his head, and Emily exited the mess hall trying impossibly hard not to look towards the counselors.

There was a frigid chill to the air that made her seek for any type of warmth, a jacket over her simple cotton t-shirt, something to ease the cold that presented itself the moment the sun started to lower against the pine needle trees.

She shoved her hands into her jean shorts and walked against the path that had been carved out ages ago. There were boot prints, and even bare feet tracked in the loose dirt. Her breath pressed into the air in a soft cloud, something she used to exhaust. That small prick buzzing like her table was ready at a family restaurant.

The cabin looked bigger than before, almost like each of the three steps that she took up to the screen door were miles long. Her legs ached and shook, but she still pulled it open and glanced around the space: Her bed had been made this morning and was still left untouched. Hayley's was a mess under her own, and Jane was empty. The covers were pulled back and the setting sun highlighted it in a ghastly orange.

Emily let out the breath that she didn't know she was holding onto. Her lungs burned, and her ears were ringing now. A pressure and anxiety that she couldn't fiddle with tugged at her. The door creaking open as she turned to face it.

Hayley.

She leaned against the doorframe, eyebrows raised. "Not here?"

"No, afraid not." Emily let out a deep breath. "Dinner over?"

The girl nodded and flopped down on her mattress, stretching her hands out over her head as she groaned as her back popped in just the right way. She didn't think she took that long to walk to the cabin across the camp, but she had, dragging her feet and begging for a reason to make the ringing stop.

Emily could feel her throat tighten and she blamed the cold air, not the deepening feeling in her stomach as she shook her head and pushed past her screen door, standing staggered against the steps to her cabin. It was crowded this time, kids trying to get back to their bunks before the mountain night grew chillier.

She watched as kids that wore a mix of forest green and golden yellow walked among counselors that were far from finished with their nights. She would often see the fire rising from the rocky shore and smell the beer in the metal trash cans that next morning. The thought made her skin prickle.

Aubrey Posen stood by the edge of the path, her arms crossed over her chest as those deep green eyes peered into Beca's. The girl was shorter than her superior, but the way she puffed out her chest and sneered made Emily think that she had more gall than the woman she was looking for. Chloe had an even hand on her shoulder as if to hold her back or pull her to their shared cabin. The archery instructor lifting perfectly sculpted eyebrows up in discontent.

Emily steeled her nerves and walked forward, cutting across the crowd as a few people mumbled while others stared directly at her. She kept her distance, but not too much, Beca Mitchell shooting her midnight stare her way as if to acknowledge her presence.

"Hey, Em" Chloe offered up warmly, trying to defuse the situation, Aubrey's own stare had softened a great deal, though, she never let her shoulders drop. "What's up?"

She wanted words for form, really, she did. But they seemed to stall in her throat. At the crackling sound that she let out, Aubrey straightened her shoulders and turned herself completely towards the camper, knitting her brow. "Em?"

"I don't want to bother you, it's just- Jane, my cabin mate, I haven't seen her all day."

She knew she was taking it slow, mumbling. Four sets of eyes were on her. The surrounding area had been voided of kids, all of them sneaking liquor in their own cabins. Smoking loose cigarettes that they had hidden in their t-shirts before spraying a thick layer of lavender spray.

"She usually misses breakfast, but never lunch, or dinner. I'm uh, I'm worried about her."

"Jane Eide?" Stacie asked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her oversized sweatshirt. "I've been working with her. She didn't show today, though, figured she had fallen asleep."

"I pulled her from the water the other night," Beca admitted, "Late. She and two others were out on the lake after dark."

Aubrey pulled in an easy breath, one that was far too calm for a situation like this, there was an unknown type of fear that was behind her darkened eyes. One that she wouldn't really admit to, but Emily could see it. She could feel it.

"Right, so no one has seen her since last night?" All silence and blinking eyes. "Emily, did you hear her come in last night?"

"No, I didn't. Neither did Hayley."

"Okay. Stacie, you go back to the mess hall with Jesse, search the mess hall and the quad." Aubrey had a certain stiffness to her voice. "Chloe, Beca. I need you to go to the north building and check the phone log- maybe she phoned home. Emily, follow me."

No one made a move for a few seconds, just staring at the woman in front of them until she clapped her hands together and snapped everyone out of a haze that felt like a hazy dream. Campers didn't just vanish. Some would get homesick, sure, but they would call their parents and get picked up begrudgingly. The feeling Emily had seemed to stem within the circle of them and extend- Stacie the first to nod and step away, doing a slight jog towards her station.

Chloe took reign and used the hand still on Beca's shoulder to drag her towards the building that housed a small desk and the white postal bucket that everyone placed their letters in. There was a phone and a yellow log to write in, hopefully, Jane had.

"Come on," Aubrey said, and Emily followed like an obedient dog on a short leash. They were walking in one clear direction and Aubrey was moving fast the cold not seeming to get to her, so Emily rolled her shoulders back and forgot about her own chilled bones.

Aubrey pushed past the door to her little cabin, something that looked out over the east side of the lake and was isolated to everyone else. No one dared come this close to a place like this, the place that Aubrey would sit and drink coffee before anyone disturbed her.

Emily didn't know what to expect, but it looked almost normal: There was a little television that was an obnoxious shade of blue and had rabbit ears stretching to the sky. A nicely made bed and a small table with two chairs on either side of it. There were lights strung up over a floral bedspread. It smelled thickly of lavender, and it pulled Emily in. She struggled to stay against the threshold.

"Here," Aubrey seemed slightly out of breath, she stretched forward and handed Emily a hard metal flashlight. She had palmed one herself, its silver shell reflecting the fairy lights. "We're going to check around the lake."

"Okay," was all Emily could mumble, the woman pulled open what looked like a closet instead of a dresser. She produced a brown leather bomber jacket that had a fur collar, folded and covered in patches. It looked worn and overwhelmed her with scent as it was tossed in her direction. "I can't-"

"It's cold," Aubrey said tenderly. She was wearing a sweatshirt herself, adjusting the collar as she flicked off the light and pressed herself through the doorway. Emily could feel her heat against her front.

She hurriedly slid it over her shoulders before closing the door and jogging slightly to catch up with Aubrey, she had already flicked her flashlight on. It created a circle of yellow that she swept over the grounds that they walked against, their sneakers loud compared to the silence of the night. Emily couldn't hear crickets.

Her shoulder would bump against Aubrey's every couple of steps, and she savored the touch, moving her own beam of light close to the water's edge. It lapped at the stones and made them look prettier than they really were.

"I lost my hamster once." Emily finally said timidly.

There was a slight hint of a laugh, or maybe a scoff, that pushed past Aubrey's lips. Either way, its splayed against the darkness of the sky in a puff of white. "What?"

"Yeah, when I was six, I had a hamster and he got out of his cage somehow. We couldn't find him for a couple of days- maybe a week. I don't remember. I was six. But we finally found him, you know."

"Where was he?" Aubrey asked, pulling a branch up for the both of them to duck under. It smelled like pine and dropped dead needles at the movement. The lights from the camp were getting smaller as they wandered into the large isolated parts of the perimeter. The lights from the cabins looked like they were put through a funhouse mirror as they reflected off the inky water.

"He was in the television."

"Your hamster?"

Emily hummed in response, letting her light move against the stretch of trees. They looked scarier at night. "Yeah, in that little part where the speakers usually are. He had chewed through all of them, so at least we knew he didn't starve. The little guy lived four more years after that… so uh, maybe we'll find her. You know?"

"Jane is a person, not a rodent."

"Oh, I know," Emily's shoe slid on the closest rock, the sound splaying oddly as Aubrey instinctively reached and clutched onto her arm, keeping her from sliding too much "Thanks. I just don't think I've lost anything else before."

Aubrey stopped then, her back to the forest as she parted her lips. Emily didn't know if it had anything to do with her eyes adjusting or the fact that the moon had risen to its fullest point, but it was easier to see. Every part of Aubrey looked milky blue, her lips and eyes darker than the rest of her subtle features. She looked like a siren, playing oddly with the rubber button on her light. Almost like she was nervous.

"I have," Aubrey said, so softly it was almost muted by the water lapping the shore. "My father he uh, he left when I was fifteen, maybe sixteen? I don't think we tried too hard to find him but it um, it feels kind of like this. You know?"

"Like someone is holding your heart and just kind of… squeezes it?"

Aubrey let out a long-held onto breath "Yeah, yeah. Like that. Is it getting tighter for you too?"

Emily chewed on her bottom lip. She had to admit, the feeling seemed to melt away around Aubrey. She was a calming presence, an authority figure that she gawked at if anything. Aubrey sniffed, eyes sad in the moonlight as they flicked towards Emily's mouth. "Yeah, I think so." It was no more than a whisper.

"Emily…?"

"Yeah, Aubrey?"

The older woman's hands were cold as she took a fluid step forward, her fingers curling around the back of Emily' neck as she let the other hand hold tight against the flashlight. Emily had kissed people before, hell, she had done it often and diligently, but this was different. This was soft and Aubrey tasted like a mix of cinnamon and heat. Her nose was cold against her cheek as her touch moved against Emily's jaw delicately.

Emily pulled away with a sharp breath, leaning her forehead against Aubrey's. That hand around her heart had released its hold and let it flourish as the blood rushed past her ears. "Whoa."

"That was-"Aubrey swallowed, her hand dropped her hand down "I'm sorry, I misread the situation, I'm sorry." She apologized twice in one sentence, wanting to move away completely, but she had found Emily's hand curled around the collar of her sweatshirt, holding her in place.

"No," She whispered, "You have no idea how long I've waited for you to do that but-"

"It's not the right time." Aubrey finished her thought, swallowing roughly. "We need to keep going."

Emily nodded and eventually dislodged her fingers from the girl's coat, even if it was the last thing she wanted to do. They returned to walking in silence, their feet crunching against dried leaves and gravel. She could swear she felt the ghost of a cold hand.


End file.
